Fallen From the Wings of Angels
by with-a-flower-in-her-hair
Summary: Luna had always loved the snow. It was, in its own way, rather like the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. And she understood, in the special way only she could, that her mother’s messages were hidden in the snow. Luna reflects on the one thing... more inside


Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.

Genre: General, Family

Warnings: None

Summary: Luna had always loved the snow, ever since before she could remember. It was, in its own way, rather like the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, and she understood, in the special way only she could, that her mother's messages were hidden in the snow. Luna reflects, on the one thing only she has ever truly been able to understand.

A/N Just a little one-shot I'd had in my head for a while, finally written down in response to, 'Wotcher-Tonks,'', 'The Weather Challenge.'

I think it makes sense... feel free to ask though if anything doesn't. Suggestions for improvement are always welcome!

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Luna had always loved the snow, ever since before she could remember. It was, in its own way, rather like the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, she thought, in that it always turned up when people least expected it, and not everyone always understood it.

Luna understood the snow. She understood that every melting flake held a thousand frozen tears, each one unique, special; each one full of pain, yet full of hope. She understood that each delicate icicle held a thousand angelic reflections, each one tearful, yet somehow full of joy, and no two ever quite the same. And she understood, though others could seldom comprehend it, that each falling snowflake held a thousand frozen messages, each as diverse as the very snowflakes which held them.

Luna listened to the snow, as no-one else ever truly did. She heard the messages it carried, and the stories it had to tell. She listened, and learnt, and came to understand more about the snow than even she could have believed possible. She danced in the snow, laughed in the snow, and cried in the snow more times than she cared to remember. And each time she cried, her tears would mingle with the snow on the ground; mingle with the tears the sky had shed, and the messages in the snow would speak to her, comfort her.

Luna spoke to the snow, though no-one around her understood why. They just didn't understand, in the way Luna did, the comfort the snow could bring. She lay in the snow, looking up at the sky, smiling, as the snow's whispered messages surrounded her, embraced her. She listened, as the far-away voices, carried down from the sky by its own, frozen tears, echoed around her, reminding her that, whatever she may feel, she was not alone.

Luna tried, once, to explain the snow. She had thought, naively, that others would learn to love the snow, as she did, once they understood what it truly was. She explained, to sceptical ears, where the snow came from, what it was, and the importance of the messages it carried. She picked up a small handful of snow, and held it out to the other person. 'See, soft, like feathers,' she explained, in a small voice. They had smiled at her, and nodded politely, but Luna knew they didn't understand. And she felt sad for them. They would never experience the comfort of the snow.

Luna revered the snow, in a way others often found strange. When the snow spoke to her, she listened, and when the snow chastised her, she took heed. Because Luna understood, in the special way only she could, that the messages of angels, were borne on the snow. She smiled softly to herself, each and every time she saw the first flake of snow fall; the first feather from an angel's wing, drop softly to earth. She smiled, because she knew, and only she knew, that her mother sent her messages in the snow.

Luna was saddened by the snow, however much she rejoiced in her mother's messages. She had decided, long ago, that Angels must be such lonely creatures. They cried, as the feathers from their wings gently broke away, carrying messages back down to their loved ones. They wept, knowing that the messages they so dearly wished to send, would never reached their loved ones, simply because no-one understood that they were there. And Luna often wept with them, surrounded by the messages they had sent, unable to help a single one reach the ones they sought to find.

Luna loved the snow, in spite of the sadness it spoke of, more than anyone could ever truly understand. She listened to the snow, spoke to the snow, took heed of the snow, and took solace from the snow. She laughed in the snow, cried in the snow, danced in the snow, and above all, understood the snow. And every time she saw the snow, she rejoiced, smiling in the understanding that she knew what no-one else would ever understand; the little messages captured in the snow, sent down from the skies, fallen from the wings of angels.

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End file.
